


I Never Did Get Along With Everybody Else

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Foster Care, Loss of Parent(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:37:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke's parents started taking in foster kids when she was twelve, and none of them have ever stuck around. The Blakes aren't planning to stay either--Bellamy is just waiting to turn eighteen and get custody of his sister himself--but for the first time, Clarke really wants them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clarke

**Author's Note:**

> Assume I did no research about foster care for this fic. But I HAVE seen the first season of The Fosters on ABC Family Channel, which I assume is like doing research. A couple years ago.

Clarke's parents sit her down for the fostering conversation when she's twelve, and they seem strangely nervous about it.

"We don't want you to feel neglected," her mother says. "But we're well off, and--" She glances at Dad. "More kids aren't in the cards for us. But there are a lot of children who could use someone to look after them. Is that okay?"

"You know I'm twelve, right? You're explaining this like I'm five. Yeah, that's fine. I think it's a good idea. Don't be weird."

Dad bites back on a smile, and Mom purses her lips. Which is how it usually goes. But they seem to accept that Clarke means it, and for the next few years, they have a fairly steady stream of kids coming through, always temporarily, while custody gets sorted out or their parents are working through something. Clarke likes most of them, or at least doesn't dislike any of them, but she's not heartbroken that they don't stick around.

She's almost seventeen when they get the Blakes.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable," her father tells her, and when she reflexively rolls her eyes, he laughs. "We have a genuine reason for this one. It's a boy and a girl, siblings. The brother, Bellamy, he's turning eighteen in a few months. He's planning to try to get custody of his sister, but--we don't usually get kids your age, especially boys. If you think it would be weird--"

"No, I don't care. How old is the girl? What happened to their parents?"

"I don't know about their father, but their mother recently passed away. The sister is Octavia, she's twelve."

"He wants to get custody of his sister? How's he going to take care of her?"

Her father shrugs. "If they move in, you can ask him."

She laughs. "Yeah, okay. I don't mind, we can take them. I do know boys, you know."

"I think they've had a rough time," he says, careful. "So they might be--well, you're an old pro at this. You know the drill."

"I know the drill. When are you going to get them?"

"Tomorrow."

"Okay, cool. I'll come."

Truthfully, Clarke is a little curious. They haven't had any foster kids as old as she is, and the last few who have stayed with them have been kids whose parents are struggling to regain custody after being declared unfit. She learned something about the process, and she can't imagine doing that at her age, trying to take care of someone all by herself. But apparently that's Bellamy Blake's plan, and she wants to know how he thinks he's going to handle it.

They're waiting outside the child protective services building when Clarke and her parents arrive the next day. They're dark-haired and stoic, Bellamy with his arm around his sister's shoulders, glaring at the car like he doesn't trust them. Octavia is pale and too-thin, Bellamy dark and even thinner. Clarke meets his eyes through the window and feels like he wants to start a fight. It's a familiar expression, but from kids who have been in the system for a while, the ones who don't trust anyone because they've been burned too many times. It's surprising, when it's only been a few weeks, but--her dad did say they'd had a hard time.

"That must be them," her mother says, overly bright. 

Clarke's the first one out of the car, and she ignores Bellamy to smile at his sister instead.

"Hi," she says. "I'm Clarke. You must be Octavia."

Octavia offers her a hesitant smile back. She's a cute kid, all bright eyes and awkwardly long limbs, and Clarke likes her immediately. "Hi," she says. Then she elbows her brother, apparently _hard_. The wince looks genuine. "This is my brother. He's being an asshole."

"I'm not doing anything," Bellamy protests, and Clarke finally looks at him. He's a few inches taller than she is, tan skin that suggests his parentage is more mixed than his sister's, freckles all over his face, a scar over his lip, a tangle of black hair, and--yeah, he's really hot. At least he's still scowling, so he's hot, but not charming. Which is good. 

"Say hi," says Octavia, and Clarke gives him an encouraging smile. She can pretend to be the bigger person.

"You're the daughter?" Bellamy asks instead.

"I go by Clarke, usually, but, yeah, if you want to be weird about it, I'm the daughter."

He looks at her for a long minute, and she wonders what he's seeing. She knows she's rich, but she doesn't think she _looks_ rich, not most of the time. She doesn't have designer clothes or anything, but--she looks nice, put together, and her jeans are artfully distressed, not genuinely distressed like his. "Bellamy," he finally says. "Your parents sent you out first because you're not as scary?"

"I'm the scariest," Clarke says, smiling sweetly. "They're parking. I assume there's paperwork and stuff before we can leave." She turns her attention back to Octavia, deliberate. "How long have you guys been here?"

"A couple days," says Octavia. "They had us in another home, but--" She looks at her brother. "They weren't good."

Bellamy's lip curls. "To say the least."

"Yeah, there are a lot of bad foster homes out there," Clarke agrees, and he snorts.

"What do you know about it?"

"We've been getting foster kids for almost five years," she says. "I've heard some horror stories, okay?"

"So why don't you keep them?"

"Because they didn't want to be kept. Why are you such a dick?" Octavia laughs, and Bellamy looks torn between irritation at Clarke and gratitude that his sister is smiling. Clarke's hoping to get that reaction a lot. Then she remembers that his mother just died, and she feels guilty. She thinks it's probably the best way to deal with him, but it's still probably too soon to be combative. It just feels more natural than being nice to him. "Sorry. I know you aren't having the best--however long."

He looks reluctantly amused. "It's been a while since we had the best time, yeah."

Clarke wants to follow up, but she feels a warm arm around her shoulders and then her parents are there. Both Blakes faces' go neutral and polite, the expressions of kids who don't want to give anything away.

"Hello Bellamy, Octavia," says her mother. "I'm Abby Griffin, and this is my husband, Jake. Just call us Jake and Abby, it's much easier. I assume Clarke introduced herself. We're very excited to have you staying with us. For however long you need."

There's a flash of some emotion from Bellamy at that, but it's too quick for Clarke to have much of a guess at what it was. He gives them a polite smile, offers his hand first to her mother and then her father. "It's nice to meet you. We appreciate you letting us stay with you."

Octavia shakes as well, mumbles something along the same lines, and stays close to her brother's side. It makes Clarke's heart lurch, and she's weirdly grateful, suddenly, that Bellamy was a dick to her. At least he feels like he can be honest with someone in the family, even if his version of honesty involves a good deal of hostility. She can be nice to Octavia, and she'll work on Bellamy. She can't help feeling like they deserve something good, and she thinks she could be that. For as long as they're around, anyway.

She's going to try.

"We're happy to have you," her father is saying. "We're going to go fill out paperwork, is there anything you need while we're downtown? Clothes, anything like that? We'll stop by the grocery store on the way home, so food won't be a problem, and if you need a longer shopping trip, we can set that up, but--"

"I'll show them around," Clarke says, when she catches the look the siblings exchange. "Just give us a call when you're done."

Her father looks relieved; she doesn't always volunteer for one-on-one time with the new kids. "That would be great, Clarke. It shouldn't take too long."

As soon as her parents are inside, Bellamy starts slouching, like his bones only work properly when adults are around. "If we're going shopping, I want a pony," he says.

"They don't have those downtown," she says. "Take it up with my parents when we're in the car. Octavia, any reasonable requests?"

"I know your dad said we were going grocery shopping, but I'm kind of hungry," she offers, hesitant. "Maybe a snack or something?"

"Sure," says Clarke. "There's an ice cream place around the corner and a bagel place a few blocks away? Did you want nutritional value?"

Bellamy's watching her like he's trying to figure something out, and Clarke just raises her eyebrows at him. He smiles with one side of his mouth. "I vote ice cream," he says, turning his gaze to Octavia. "Carbs are bad now, right? No bagels."

"Sugar is a carb," Octavia says, unimpressed. "But yeah, ice cream."

"It's mostly dairy." He's still looking at his sister when he adds, "So, how rich are you guys? Regular rich, or crazy rich?"

Clarke considers. "I don't know the exact distinction, but--probably closer to crazy rich? Mom's a doctor, Dad's an engineer, and Mom comes from money, so--we're past upper middle class, but I don't think we're in the one percent."

"So your parents take in needy children to feel better about having too much money?"

"I was a really difficult birth," Clarke says, shrugging. "I don't really know all the details, Mom doesn't like to talk about it, but--yeah. She can't have more kids, so they decided to try fostering, once I was old enough they weren't worried I'd feel like they didn't love me. They could have done it a lot earlier, but they didn't consult me."

"Just because they're rich doesn't mean their lives are perfect," Octavia tells her brother, making Clarke smile. "You can at least give them a chance before you decide they're assholes."

"Full disclosure, I can be kind of an asshole," Clarke says. "But I think it's mostly unrelated to being rich." She looks at Bellamy. "You're not a charity case for us, or--maybe you are, but not in a bad way. My parents don't want to use you to feel better about their excessive wealth, I think they just always wanted a bigger family. But we tend to end up getting kids who don't end up needing a long-term thing placed with us, so, yeah. That's how it is, and now we've got you. Again, for a couple months, I heard."

"That's the plan," says Bellamy. "But if you guys want to buy us a bunch of shit before we leave, I'm not going to stop you."

"Good call," Clarke says, holding the door to the ice cream shop open for the two of them. "Just don't rob us, that happened once, it was a pain."

"A pain," Bellamy repeats, like he doesn't believe her.

"Spending money is easy, litigation is annoying. I tried to argue that if we would have spent the money on him if he asked anyway, it didn't matter, but Mom and Dad thought it was, you know. Important. Consequences or something. So you're way better off just playing nice and getting them to buy you stuff you can sell, if that's what you're looking for."

"That's good advice, Bell," says Octavia, sounding smug. "I like her."

"You're not scamming anyone, O."

"It's not a _scam_. It's just taking advantage of a good thing while we've got it. It's not like you're gonna have any money."

Bellamy's jaw works, irritation flashing across his face, and Clarke feels a little bad for him. Octavia says it casually, but if he's planning to get custody of her, it's got to be pretty important to him. And the reminder that he's broke can't be a fun one.

"Fine, get them to buy you as much cool stuff as you want," he says. "Just remember we're selling it. And this is _temporary_."

Octavia rolls her eyes. "I know." She gives Clarke a _Can you believe this dork?_ look. Clarke tries not to smile. They've never fostered siblings before; they're cute. "I want cookie dough."

She thinks her parents must be giving them a little extra time--paper work doesn't take _that_ long--but she appreciates it. Octavia is a little shy around adults, and Bellamy clearly isn't comfortable being surly at her parents, so she's pretty sure they're both glad of the chance to relax for a bit before they have to interact with the whole family. Bellamy quizzes her on the grocery shopping, which he seems to think is a trap, while Octavia makes fun of him for worrying too much.

"You are worrying too much," Clarke tells him as they walk back to CPS.

"Someone's got to."

She snorts. "Really? What do you think is gonna happen if no one is weird and paranoid about this?"

"Nice try," he says, with a very unfair smirk. He's too hot for Clarke's own good, seriously. He's really, really hot. "But you could be out to get me too."

"I don't know how or why I'd be out to get you, so I guess you probably shouldn't tell me. It'll just give me ideas."

He gives her a look like he can't tell if she's making fun of him, and she gives him a sunny smile in that will do absolutely nothing to clear things up in return. He lets out a small snort of laughter and shakes his head. "Anyone ever tell you you're kind of weird?"

"Takes one to know one."

"Weird _and_ immature. The total package."

"Maybe you're just way _too_ mature. You know we're basically the same age, right?"

He looks a little surprised at that. "Really?"

"When do you turn eighteen?"

"October," he says, as if his birthday pisses him off. "What about you?"

"I turn seventeen in a month," she says. "But I'm going to be a senior next year, so we'll be in the same grade."

"I'm not going back to school," he says. He hasn't been looking at her much, but this feels purposeful, like a challenge. "I'm done with that."

"Because of Octavia?"

He shrugs. "It's not like high school is great or anything. You can't tell me you're looking forward to senior year." He shrugs. "I'll get a job until I'm eighteen, start saving up some money for when I turn eighteen. Looking like a responsible guardian." He shoots Clarke a smirk. "Getting your parents to buy me shit I can sell for cash."

"You sure have it all figured out."

"I'm doing my best."

She waits until they're in the car, Octavia in the middle seat between them, looking small and a little quiet, before she says, "Can I ask how long it's been since your mom died?"

Bellamy gives her an amused, somewhat exasperated look. "You know you already asked, right? You can't un-ask now." He worries his lip, glancing down at his sister. "It's been a month. But she was never around that much. She worked a lot. We've been on our own for as long as I can remember."

Octavia takes his hand, and Clarke feels a lump in her throat. She'd never felt like she was missing out, being an only child. She's on the soccer team at school, has plenty of friends, but if something bad happened, if she really needed someone to look out for her, does she have anyone she can rely on like that? Wells, maybe, and even Wells, they've been a little awkward since puberty, even if she thinks he's gotten over the crush she knows he had for a couple years.

She's half-expecting one of her parents to say something stupid, tell him that they're not on their own anymore, but they stay quiet, and she's grateful. Maybe they've decided it's her job to deal with these two, just like she has.

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss," Clarke says.

"Wasn't much of a loss, like I said." He shifts a little, uncomfortable. "But thanks."

*

Clarke thinks the Blakes are settling in mostly fine, the first couple weeks. They're still skittish around her parents, Bellamy polite and taciturn, Octavia shy and withdrawn, but her parents have developed better instincts than she gave them credit for, over the years. They're friendly without being pushy, and they mostly leave the new kids alone, aside from making sure they have food and clothes and beds.

Her father tells her that she should get them whatever they need aside from that, if they feel more comfortable asking her, but they don't really ask her for things either. They don't actually talk that much more around her, most of the time, but it's a more comfortable kind of silence. She and Bellamy snipe at each other, but in a fairly friendly way, the kind of companionable shit-talking she mostly only does with people she's known forever. They're definitely her favorites, among all the foster kids they've had, and she thinks--well, she thinks they like her okay, too.

Then she passes Bellamy's door when she's going to grab some water in the middle of the night and sees the light is on.

It could mean a lot of things. He could have fallen asleep with the lights on, or he could have woken up, or--

Or he could be not sleeping well because he's in a new house in a new bed and his mother is dead and he's trying to get a job so he can adopt his baby sister as soon as he turns eighteen and not having any luck. He could need someone to--well, he could just need someone.

Clarke knocks.

Nothing happens, so she tries it one more time, and she's about to leave when the door opens.

Bellamy looks rumpled, wearing a pair of boxers and a worn t-shirt, his hair even messier than usual. He doesn't look like he was sleeping, but he scrubs his hand over his face anyway, like he needs to wake himself up. "What?" he asks, but it's not as harsh as she expected.

"Are you sleeping?" she asks. He's not one of those teenagers who sleeps late, that she's seen, but it hadn't occurred to her that he might not be sleeping at all.

"Clearly not right now," he says. Clarke leans against the door, expectant, and he sighs. "Fine, I'm not. Come in, I don't want this turning into a party."

She hasn't really been in Bellamy's room much. It's his space, and she respects that. It's the old guest room, since they only had the one foster kid room, and he hasn't unpacked anything at all. There's a suitcase on the floor with clothes in it, and the bed is kind of shoddily made.

"Bellamy," she says, and he sits down on the bed, rubbing his face again. 

"It's fine. I get an hour or two, most nights, just--you guys live in the fucking _suburbs_. It's so fucking _quiet_."

Clarke hesitates for a second, but then she sits down next to him. It's mostly easy, ignoring that she's attracted to him. She's attracted to a lot of people; she's used to it. She's bi and girls are pretty, and there are plenty of guys with nice arms and faces, and she doesn't think about it most of the time. Bellamy needs her to be--not family, not really. But someone on his side.

So she sits next to him on his bed and it's not a big deal. 

"Have you tried playing music or something? White noise? Anything?"

"Not yet. It's not just the noise. It's everything. This is a _really fucking nice bed_. My mattress back home was this--god, it was so thin and shitty and the springs were always jabbing me." He smiles at her, wry. "I know, this is, like--the stupidest shit to complain about. Your house is too big and fancy and it freaks me out."

"How was the last place you were?"

"Also shitty," he says. He licks his lips. "They said they would just keep O, so I slept on her floor, in case--I don't know. They wanted to separate us, they said we were too close, that it wasn't normal. So I slept near her in case they tried something, and I tired myself out stressing so much that I basically just passed out."

"That sucks."

"At least I was sleeping. But, yeah. It sucked." He worries his lip, and Clarke wonders if they know each other well enough, after two weeks, for her to comfort him. She leans in against his side, hesitant, and he nudges her back in acknowledgement. So she stays. "I've never had my own room before," he admits. "O's all the way down the hall."

"Is she doing okay with it?"

"Yeah, she's--I think she's good." He looks down at his hands resting on his legs. "She seems happy. She's getting enough to eat, she thinks you're great, she's getting used to your parents."

Clarke doesn't reply for a long time, and they just stay there, leaning on each other. Bellamy probably hasn't ever had anyone to lean on, literally or figuratively. "Have you thought about--not leaving?" she asks, soft.

"Hm?" He sounds almost sleepy, and she wonders if he was drifting off.

"We could keep you," she says. "Both of you. You could finish high school and have your own room and figure out if you want to go to college or--whatever."

"I'll be eighteen in four months."

"I don't think we care."

"You've known me for two weeks, Clarke."

"Just think about it."

They're quiet again, and Clarke's drifting off when he says, so quiet she can barely hear, "Your parents would murder me if you slept in here, right?"

It should sound like a come-on or something, but it doesn't. He just sounds exhausted.

"Tomorrow's Wednesday," she says, tugging him back to lie back on the bed. "Mom has work, Dad has squash with Thelonious. They won't notice."

"I'd rather lose sleep than get kicked out."

"You won't get kicked out," she says, closing her eyes. He smells like warm earth, and one of his arms comes up around her, half an embrace. She hasn't shared a bed with anyone since she stopped going to her parents when she had nightmares, but she's tired and worried about him, and he needs to get some fucking rest. And it's nice. "Don't worry."

"Your dad better not have a shotgun," he says, already fuzzy with sleep, and Clarke doesn't bother responding.

*

She wakes up before he does, which is probably good; he's the one who needs sleep, not her. She manages to extricate herself from the bed without waking him up, presumably because he's _fucking exhausted_.

Her father hasn't left yet when she gets downstairs, so she pours herself some coffee and says, "Just so this doesn't screw me over later, I slept in Bellamy's room last night." He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't respond, and Clarke sighs. "He hasn't ever had his own room before, it's quieter than he's used to, it's a new place, and he's having trouble settling in. He doesn't want to worry Octavia, so--yeah. I saw he was awake and went to talk to him, and we fell asleep. I'll probably keep doing it, if he needs it."

Her father nods. "And if anything more was happening--"

"It wouldn't be, because he's in a vulnerable position right now and I'm not a jerk. But if that ever stopped being an issue and we decided we wanted something more to happen, I would use protection and tell you to butt out."

"Fair enough." He takes a sip of coffee. "How do you think he's doing?"

She turns the question over in her mind. "I think he needs a job or a hobby or something. He has too much time to think. But he'll be fine. And I told him he could stay here even after he turned eighteen. At least until he finished high school. He said he was dropping out, but--he's smart. He should finish school, at least."

"That's true." He pauses. "And we'd take Octavia. If I didn't think he'd run at the barest suggestion from me, I'd tell him that myself. The last thing I want to do is make him think we're going to try to fight him for custody. But if you think you can do it without spooking him, feel free. He doesn't deserve to lose his entire childhood to watching his sister."

"I think he already lost most of it. But I'll work on it."

"They're both welcome for as long as they'd like to stay. And I'll tell your mother you're--" He makes a face, and Clarke laughs.

"You'll figure out a way to say I might sometimes sleep with Bellamy that doesn't make it sound like I'm sleeping with Bellamy?" she teases.

"Be nice, or I'll make you do it yourself."

"Thanks for understanding, Dad."

"I'm glad the three of you are getting along," he says. "Just don't--well, the record will show I was worried about getting a boy your age."

She pats him on the arm. "Hey, I like girls my age too."

He laughs. "Thanks. That really helps."

*

She and Bellamy don't talk about it, but she thinks it helps. They keep hanging out like normal during the day, Clarke trying to keep him from getting too into his own head, helping him look for jobs and giving him other shit to do when he's not doing that. She finds out neither of them knows how to swim, which makes her twist up inside, so she buys them bathing suits and they spend a lot of time in the pool in the backyard. Clarke always has pool parties for her birthday, and she's determined that Bellamy and Octavia are going to come and not be embarrassed that they can't be in the water. Octavia takes to it naturally; Bellamy prefers to hang out in one of the deck chairs, reading and offering commentary, but Clarke does manage to teach him enough that he won't drown if he falls in.

"Aren't I going to be really young?" Octavia asks, the day before the party. "Everyone else is your age, right?"

Clarke glances at Bellamy, who shrugs one shoulder. "You are younger, but no one is going to care. It's not like it's a huge party. My best friend Wells, you guys met Wells, Raven, Lexa, and Monroe, they're on the soccer team, Monty, Jasper, and Wick, they're Raven's science bros. They're all cool, and if any of them aren't cool to you, I will kick them out." She smirks at Bellamy. "That goes for you, too."

"What, you'll kick them out if they aren't cool to me, or you'll kick me out if I'm not cool to O?"

"Both."

"Whatever, they're all gonna be intimidated by how awesome I am," Bellamy says, flopping back in the grass. "But, yeah, O, don't worry. Clarke's friends aren't gonna be dicks. Well, no more than she is."

"Exactly. Bellamy gets it."

She still looks upset, and Clarke is about to try to a new tactic when she asks, "Are they rich too?"

"Not all of them," Clarke says. "Wells and Lexa are. Raven really isn't. She's--well, she doesn't talk about it, but I know her home life is pretty shitty. She's had to crash here a couple times when stuff went wrong with her mom. The rest of them are kind of middle-class, I think? It doesn't come up a lot." She gives Octavia a half-hug around the shoulders. "Either way, I meant it. If any of them do anything to make you uncomfortable, tell me. None of my friends are allowed to be assholes on my birthday."

"Octavia actually trusts you, you know," Bellamy tells her that night. Clarke has taken to hanging out in his room on her laptop before bed, which is the easiest way to get him to just tell her to stay if he wants her to. It's only every few nights that he asks, and Clarke's not sure if he feels bad keeping her too often or is actually sleeping better on his own. Either way, she's not pushing.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He makes a strange noise, a variation on a sigh, and Clarke turns her full attention to him. He's lying on his back, book set aside, staring up at the ceiling. It's definitely a sleepover night. She closes down the laptop and goes over to stretch out next to him. "I always told her not to talk about--home," he says. "In case someone decided our mom wasn't fit or something and tried to take her away. Separate us. So maybe that's why she's so quiet. She's doing better here than she had been for the last few years at home. Maybe I should have--I don't know. I thought I could handle it, but it wasn't fair to her. My whole life, all my mom told me she was my responsibility. I thought that meant I had to make sure--" He rubs his face, and Clarke shifts closer.

"You know she wouldn't be like this with us if you weren't here," she points out. "She trusts me because you trust me."

"Who says I trust you?" he grumbles, and Clarke pokes him in the side. "You didn't even close the door before you climbed into bed with me, that's really untrustworthy."

Clarke bites her lip hard, feeling guilty. "You want untrustworthy, my parents already know. I told my dad the first morning after I stayed here."

He freezes. "They _know_?"

"I figured it would be a lot worse if they found out because they caught us. I knew my dad would let me explain, and as far as I know, he told my mom." 

He still looks vaguely traumatized, so Clarke goes and closes his door, and then flops back down next to him. He stares at her for another second and finally laughs. "Jesus. You just _told them_? And they haven't, I don't know. I would have expected your dad to give me a lecture about, uh--"

"I got that lecture. _Don't take advantage of Bellamy_. Or I would have, if I didn't beat him to it. I told him he didn't have to worry."

" _You_?"

She pokes him again, harder. "Yes, me. Your mom just died, you're trying to take care of your sister, and you're living in my house. I have all the power here. I'd be a jerk to try anything right now, honestly."

"I'm totally capable of consenting to sex, thanks," he says, and then flushes. "I mean, uh, not that I'm--you know. Fuck. That's not why--"

Clarke laughs, snuggling closer. "I wasn't _offended_ , dumbass. I know you're totally lusting for me, it's fine, I get that a lot, so--"

He laughs too and shoves her. "Shut the fuck up, Clarke."

*

"So, these are the new ducklings, huh?" Raven asks. She's watching Bellamy with a level of interest that makes Clarke feel vaguely queasy, but they've established she's not going to fuck him, so there's nothing wrong with Raven going for him. A girlfriend might do him some good. And Raven is cool. "Lucky you."

"You know the foster care system isn't a dating service, right?"

"He can still be hot. No wonder you're getting so much use out of the pool so much this summer. I thought you were looking really tan."

"I knew I shouldn't have invited you to this."

"How old is he?"

"Eighteen in October."

Raven clucks her tongue. "What happens then?"

Clarke focuses all her attention on Bellamy and Octavia, playing some weird game with Wells and Monroe that she can't identify, as if she can will them to not take off as soon as Bellamy turns eighteen, as if she can make the two of them stick around with just the power of her mind. "Good question," she tells Raven.

That gets her a sharp look, which shouldn't be a surprise. Raven's too smart for her own good. "Fuck, you're actually getting attached to these two, huh? No more revolving door of foster kids?"

"I liked all of them," she protests. "Even the one who robbed us was nice. But--yeah. They're different."

"Huh. I thought he was just hot." She puts her arms around Clarke's shoulders. "You know you can talk to me about this shit, right? Did you drop off the earth for three weeks because you're stressing about your new foster kids? This is the shit we talk about, Griffin!"

"Maybe I just knew you'd hit on him, so I wanted to keep you away," Clarke teases, leaning her head against Raven's.

"It's cool to be threatened because I'm hotter than you are," Raven says. "But you have the home-court advantage. You'll be fine."

Clarke's going to tell Raven that she can have him--really, she is--but Lexa comes to grab her for some half-assed, rule-free volleyball, so she doesn't get the chance. And later, when she sees the two of them together, Bellamy leaning in with what looks almost like a _smile_ , Raven grinning, she reminds herself, very firmly, that she is absolutely not interested in him. At all. She was about to give them her blessing, because Raven would probably be good for him. Maybe convince him to stay.

She's still relieved when he comes over as soon as she finishes the game.

"Can you leave your guests or is that rude?"

"Totally rude. Where are we going?"

Bellamy flashes her an actual _grin_ , all white teeth, and Clarke is momentarily incapacitated. There should be rules about people being this hot. "Me and O have a present for you, but we're a lot more broke than your other friends, so it's kind of a private thing."

"You know you didn't have to get me anything," she says.

"O really wanted to," he says, not making eye contact. "I told her it wasn't a big deal, but she insisted, so I figured I'd chip in so she could give you something nice."

Clarke smiles. "Just give it to me after the party, okay? I want to give you guys my undivided attention."

"You do seem pretty popular."

"It's my birthday party, of course I'm popular. They ignore me most of the time."

"Uh huh," he says, sounding dubious. She doesn't think anything of it at first, but he sticks with her the rest of the party, while Raven hangs out with Octavia, which confuses her until everyone leaves and he says, "Is Lexa an ex-girlfriend or a future girlfriend?" 

Clarke tries to reign in the bloom of warmth in her chest at his too-casual tone.

"Someone else's girlfriend," she says, and he snorts.

"Yeah, that's not going to last."

"I'll let her know you think that." She punches him in the arm. "So, where's this present I've been hearing about?"

*

Bellamy registers for his senior year of high school quietly, and he doesn't mention it to Clarke and Octavia until a week after he does it. Octavia squeals and hugs him, and Clarke isn't really surprised that he looks totally freaked about it.

She's also not that surprised when Octavia knocks on her door before she goes to Bellamy's room that night and says, "Can we talk?"

"Sure, come on in."

She closes the door behind her and sits down on Clarke's bed. "Does he talk to you?"

"Not always, but probably more than he talks to you," she says.

Octavia nods. "Are you guys dating?"

"No."

"Okay." She looks at her hands, just like her brother does when he doesn't know what to say. "Do you think--he's so _smart_ , Clarke. And if he has to take me, he's just going to have to get some shitty job to take care of us and--I want him to go to college. And he could, I bet. There are scholarships. But I don't know how to tell him that without making him think he can't take care of me, and I know how important that is to him. And he _could_ do it, of course he could, but--he doesn't have to, right? Your parents would let me stay here."

"Yeah, they would."

"And they'd let him visit all the time. They'd probably let him live here, if he needed to."

"Yeah." She puts her arm around Octavia. "I'm working on him, I promise. I just haven't figured out what to say yet. But I think it would be better for him. If he didn't have to support you all by himself."

"He could stay in town, there are good colleges here. He could come back every week and make sure they were taking care of me. But you're going to be leaving too, and he doesn't really trust your parents, so I dunno if he'll--"

"I'm working on that too." She worries her lip. "My dad told me to work on it too. It's not fair, that he has to--well, he doesn't _have_ to take care of you. He wants to. But we have way more money than we need. He shouldn't spend all of his."

"And you're gonna tell him, right?"

"Like I said, I'm working on it."

"Okay." There's a pause, and then she asks, "Do you always sleep with him?"

"No, just sometimes," she says, somehow managing not to blush. "He's not used to sleeping alone, I guess, and I think he felt weird asking you."

"He _would_ ," Octavia huffs, but then she softens. "Thanks for looking out for him, Clarke. He's never really had anyone to look out from him."

"Except you," she says, with a smile.

"I'm his sister. It's different." She wraps her arms around Clarke, a quick, tight embrace, and then she's gone.

"You should let my parents adopt you and Octavia," she tells Bellamy, by way of greeting. His shoulders tense, but he doesn't run, or even scowl. "Mostly her, I don't know if it would even go through before you turn eighteen. But it's not like they have to officially adopt you for you to live here."

He watches as she crosses the room to sit next to him on the bed, and then he closes his eyes, letting his head fall back against the headboard. "I know," he says.

"Yeah?"

"Should I let a rich family with money to burn take care of my baby sister instead of trying to take her myself? It's a fucking no-brainer. Honestly, I don't even know if I _could_ get custody of her." He wets his lips. "It just feels too easy. Like I'm getting rewarded for my mom dying. It's fucked up."

"Okay, yeah, but--maybe you're getting all the luck you missed out on up until now all at once."

He rolls his eyes, leaning his head against hers. "I don't think that's how it works."

"It could be."

He sighs. "It is easy, though."

"You won the foster family lottery. It had to happen to someone, it just happened to you."

"I don't want her to feel like I'm abandoning her. I'm--it's my job to take care of her. If I just let your parents do it--"

"You can still take care of her. You can take care of her better. It's not--you're getting help, not giving up, Bellamy. You're letting someone else pay for her stuff, but you're still going to be her big brother."

He lets out a long breath. "Would your parents do it?"

She gives his hand an impulsive squeeze. "My dad told me I should talk you into it because he didn't think you'd take it well from him."

That gets him to crack a smile. "You are my favorite." He presses his face against her hair. "Fuck. It hasn't even been three months since my mom died and I'm already giving up."

"You're _not_ ," she says, insistent. "You're doing the right thing, Bellamy. I promise."

"I'm going to make you tell me that once a week for the next--I don't actually know how long. I'll tell you when to stop."

"Deal," she says, and they shake on it. "Do you want me to stay tonight?"

He actually looks conflicted about it, which is different. "I should probably figure out how to sleep here like a normal person. If I'm going to stay."

"Yeah, but--tonight was stressful. Figure out how to be a person tomorrow."

"You just like sleeping with a hot guy," he teases, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

"I wouldn't know, I've never slept with one. But if I ever do, I'll tell you how it is."

"Brat," he says, and she feels his lips press against her hair. "Thanks."

"Well, what are sisters for?"

"I know you don't have siblings, so I'm just going to tell you, this is definitely not what sisters are for."

"Friends, then."

"Friends," he agrees, and pulls her closer. She can practically hear him smiling, and she wants to turn to see it, but--well, she's comfortable, and he's not going anywhere. 

She'll see it next time.


	2. Bellamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note rating change!

Bellamy volunteers to get Clarke from the airport, which seems like the most useful thing he can do, under the circumstances.

"Oh, Bellamy, you don't have to," Abby protests, the ingrained politeness coming through even though her eyes are swollen and she looks completely exhausted. "I can go."

Abby is the Griffin Bellamy is least close to, although it's not by much. Clarke is Clarke, and both Jake and Abby are nice people to whom he is unspeakably, unfathomably grateful, but none of them are really family. For a variety of reasons.

Still, under the circumstances, Bellamy can't help taking care of her.

"You can come if you want," he tells her, gentle, in his Octavia voice. "But there's no way you're good to drive right now. And if you'd rather stay in case there's news. It's fine. I can get Clarke. I haven't seen her since Christmas, I miss her. I'd want to get her anyway."

That makes Abby smile a little, watery and weak, but real. "You're sure you don't mind?"

"As long as you trust me with your car keys."

"Of course. Thank you, Bellamy."

He nods, gives her shoulder a quick squeeze. It doesn't feel like overstepping, given the circumstances. "No problem."

Abby hasn't been able to stay still, but Octavia is just sitting in the waiting area, staring ahead, eyes dry. It's hard for her in a way it isn't for him; Jake isn't his dad, and he isn't O's either, but she's been living with him for five years, and they're close. And the last time one of her parental figures was in a car crash, they didn't survive it.

Of course, Abby is a big deal doctor here herself, a _VIP_ , he heard them saying. Jake is getting the best care they can give, and it's not like he doesn't deserve it, but Bellamy can't help thinking _the best care_ should always happen, and he knows the hospital where his mother died didn't treat her this well.

He sits down next to his sister. "I'm going to get Clarke. You want to come?"

She worries her lip. "Someone should probably be here for Abby. Just in case."

"Okay." He hugs her around the shoulders. "I'll be back before you know it, okay? And their car has that Bluetooth hookup thing, so if you need to call me, I can answer it on there. Hands-free."

She leans against him, smiling a little. "It's okay, Bell. Go get Clarke. It's her dad, she needs you more than I do."

"It's not a competition," he says. "Everyone can need me. I'm very in-demand."

"Seriously, _go_. I'll call if we get any news."

"Okay. Back in no time. With Clarke."

Bellamy doesn't drive that often; he's got a bike he uses in warm weather, and he usually relies on public transportation in the cold months. But Jake and Clarke taught him how to drive back in high school, and he still does it every few months, to keep in practice. And, given the circumstances, he's maybe a little more cautious than usual. Not that Jake was at fault in his accident, but--he remembers how overwhelming it had been, to get in a car right after his mother died. It had felt like--well, it had been a lot. He's going to make it as easy on Clarke as possible.

She texts when he's twenty minutes out, the _I landed_ text, he assumes. There is no way he's checking it right now. He is never going to text and drive. Like, ever.

She's not waiting for him yet when he arrives, which kind of sucks just because he has time to be nervous. It feels so fucking _stupid_ , being in love with Clarke when her dad is in the hospital, when they still aren't sure he'll make it. But it's not like he can turn it off; if he could, he would have done it that year they were actually living together, when she had him in the _undateable_ category because she was his foster sister. Even if he was only legally a foster kid until he turned eighteen, he'll admit if they'd tried anything back then it would have been pretty fucking bad. Clarke was a crutch for him for a while there--the good kind, but still a crutch--and he couldn't really separate how much he liked her from how much he was relying on her.

Four years later, though, he still loves her, but she's not the only person in the world he feels like he can talk to. She's just the one he likes best. Even if he hasn't seen her in months. 

She looks exhausted, coming down the escalator; she caught the first plane she could get, and he knows it was a scramble to get her stuff together and get out, even leaving aside everything else that happened. She's had a shitty day. 

But she still beams when she sees him.

He barely has time to overthink what he's supposed to do, which shouldn't be a surprise. As always, Clarke throws herself into his arms while he's still wondering if this will be the time they're too old or too far apart to hug each other.

"Hi," she says against his neck.

"Hi," he says, holding her just as tight. "No updates on your dad, he's still in surgery. O's going to call if anything happens." He presses his lips against her hair. "Worst circumstances ever, but it's good to see you."

"You too. Done with classes?"

"Yeah. Thesis turned in, finals done. I'm totally free. You?"

"A couple papers to finish. The profs gave me extensions, but I'll need something to do to keep busy, so I might not need them."

She slides out of his embrace reluctantly, but stays pressed up against his side. He wraps his arm around her, tries to ignore the easy way she fits against him. Jake's going to be fine. Jake has to be fine. But he still shouldn't be thinking, even a little, about kissing Clarke.

"If there's such a thing as a good time to get in a car crash, this is it," she says, and Bellamy snorts and squeezes her.

"Good attitude. How was the flight?"

"Boring. How are Mom and Octavia?"

"O's kind of an old hand at this, she knows the drill. Your mom's pacing non-stop, and she actually cried, which was honestly terrifying. She's the most put-together person I know, except you, and if you cry at least I know what to do."

"Yeah? What's the plan if I start crying?"

"Hugs. Vengeance, if necessary. Whatever you need."

She laughs, a little watery, and wraps her arms around his middle to hug him again. "I really missed you, you know?"

"I know. I missed you too."

She hesitates again before she lets go of him when they get to the car, and Bellamy finds himself watching her out of the corner of his eye. It doesn't look like she's been crying, but she's on the edge of it. He squeezes her hand, quick, returns the tired smile she flashes him.

"What can I do?" he asks.

"Hugs," she says. "When you're not driving." She leans back in her seat, closing her eyes. "Just having you here. It's really good to be home."

In spite of everything, it makes something warm light in Bellamy's chest. Clarke has a job here in town, and she doesn't start until after graduation, but he's been thinking about it with squirming anticipation ever since she told him. He knows it doesn't _mean_ anything, that she's around again, except that she'll _be here_. He'll finally be able to see his best friend whenever he wants again, instead of just Skyping and texting and missing her. And he feels like a dick for being happy to see her earlier than planned, because, like he said, it's under nearly the worst circumstances. But--Jake's not going to _die_. He can't. Bellamy's not a big believer in the world being a just and fair place, but Jake Griffin dying in a car crash feels like too much.

"Well, if you change your mind, keep me posted," he says, but when he looks over, she's already asleep.

He shakes her awake when they get to the hospital, feels almost guilty when her face immediately falls as she sees where they are.

"Sorry," he says, but she shakes her head.

"I'll sleep when we know if he's going to be okay." She smiles, wry. "Or, you know, when I pass out."

"Whichever comes first."

She takes his hand as they walk in, and it still makes him a little nervous, even after five years, to be as affectionate with her as he usually is in front of her parents. They've never told him, never even _hinted_ , that they disapprove of how close he and Clarke are, but he can't convince himself that they don't.They can't be happy their daughter is cozying up with the poor kid they barely adopted.

Still, Abby only looks relieved at the sight of them, and if she notices that Clarke just hugs her with one arm so she doesn't have to let go of Bellamy, she doesn't comment on it.

"How's he doing?"

"He lost a lot of blood and has a fractured shoulder, but they're optimistic. We should have news soon. How was your flight? Are you hungry? Did you talk to your professors about your finals?"

Octavia drifts over, and Bellamy puts his free arm around her, including her in the--family, he guesses. She's much more of a Griffin than he is, but he's Clarke's. That's something.

Clarke laughs softly. "Yeah, it's fine. I'm mostly done anyway." She pulls away from her mother to hug Octavia too, and he hears O finally let out a soft sniffle. Maybe now that Clarke's here, she'll stop feeling like she has to look after Abby. That would be good. "How are you doing, O?"

"I don't have to go to school tomorrow, so that's cool," says Octavia, and Clarke smiles.

"That's the spirit." She glances at Bellamy. "I am kind of hungry. Food run?"

"Sounds good."

It's natural for the two of them to settle into looking after things; he and Clarke both like being in charge, tend toward taking care of other people, and nothing makes them feel better in a crisis than having people to fret over. It's why Bellamy did so well with all the shit he went through before the Griffins adopted Octavia; he had to keep it together for his sister, so of course he did.

Still, once everyone's eaten and caffeinated, there's nothing for them to do but wait, Clarke propped up against one of his shoulders, Octavia against the other, Abby still hovering, unable to settle in with the rest of them. He's halfway asleep, out of a general lack of anything else to do, when the doctor finally comes out to talk to Abby. Most of the medical stuff goes over his head, because there's a lot of detail, and there are definitely complications, but he focuses on Abby's face and can tell it's good news. He's not going to get better for a while, but he is going to get better.

He waits outside while the others go in to see Jake--there's a cap on number of people in the room, and he's the least involved. He doesn't like hospital visits, anyway; just being in the building makes him antsy, being in the actual rooms brings back all sorts of memories he'd rather avoid. Instead, he grabs a coffee, since he's the one who's going to be driving everyone home, and waits.

*

"You're staying here, right?" Clarke asks him, once they're back at the house. He's had his own place for a couple years now, a shitty apartment he shares with his friend Miller that still feels more like home to him than the Griffins' place ever has. It's just too _big_. "You probably shouldn't have driven us back here, you definitely can't bike home, and the train's not running."

"Thanks for your concern. I'll see if my bed is made."

She worries her lip, but her voice is firm when she says. "Mine is."

"Clarke--"

"I'd kind of feel better," she admits. "If you don't mind."

"No, that's fine," he says, through a lump in his throat. "Like I said, whatever you need."

"Unless Octavia needs you to stay with her, or--" She smiles at him, rueful. "This is weird now, right? It's weird."

"It was always weird," Bellamy says, smiling and nudging his shoulder against hers. "I just figured you were too polite to mention it." He wraps his arm around her and kisses her hair. He's always overly affectionate with her when he hasn't seen her for a while; he assumes it'll wear off, but he and Clarke haven't actually lived in the same place for more than a couple weeks since they went to college, so he doesn't actually know. "I'll check in with O, but I keep telling you, sharing beds isn't actually a sibling thing. I promise."

"I'll make sure your bed is made. Just in case--"

"I'll stay with you," he assures her. "But if it makes you feel better, sure."

At seventeen, Octavia is basically a fully-functioning independent human, but she's still his baby sister, and she's still had a shitty day. He would have gone to see how she was doing even if Clarke hadn't mentioned it. 

She's sitting on her bed, reading, looking--grown-up, honestly. Even in a tanktop with a cupcake on it. She's turned out pretty well. He thinks he can still take most of the credit.

"Hey," he says, leaning against the door.

"Clarke's not letting you go home, right? It's way too late, you'd crash your bike."

"I've been told, yeah. How are you doing?"

She shrugs. "It sounds like he's going to be okay, so--I don't know. It's weird, I don't really know how to feel. Is that--" She worries her lip, and he goes to sit with her, wrapping her up for a hug. "I don't really know what Abby and Jake are, you know? They're not--it's not like they're _family_."

"I think I might have given you some weird hangups about family," Bellamy admits. "I think we should be expanding our definition, not limiting it. Or--just because _I_ don't think of them as family doesn't mean you can't. I have my own issues, you don't have to."

"Yeah, I don't want to marry Clarke, so I'm way ahead of you. I don't have any weird incest stuff going on."

"It's not incest," he grumbles. "Not even close. I was almost eighteen when I met her, that's--shut up. If you're just going to make fun of me, I'm leaving."

"I always just make fun of you," Octavia says, tightening her arms around him. "Have you ever told her?"

"Not yet. I figured I'd wait until we lived in the same place and her dad wasn't in the hospital. It seemed polite." He rubs her shoulders. "The only reason I'm putting up with this conversation is I assume it's making you feel better."

"It is." She worries her lip. "Do you think I'm--I don't know how to help Abby. I think I am, but I don't know how I fit in. With any of them. I don't know how I'm supposed to be."

"They love you, O. Just--do what you're doing. You're fine."

"And you've got Clarke, right? You'll take care of her."

He kisses her hair. "Yeah, I've got Clarke."

Clarke is looking at her bed with vague irritation when he gets back to her, like the sheets have somehow pissed her off. 

"What?" he asks.

"You don't have to stay," she says, not looking at him. "It was stupid of me to ask--"

"Clarke. I like sleeping with you," he says, and then feels himself flush. "Fuck. There is no way to say that that doesn't sound kind of creepy, is there? Look, I don't mind, okay? I'd feel better if you weren't alone."

Apparently that was either the right thing to say or the wrong one, because Clarke steps into his arms and starts crying. It's probably good--she almost certainly needs it--but he can't really bring himself to be _glad_ she's crying.

"Sorry," he says, rubbing circles on her back.

"Why are _you_ apologizing?" she asks, sounding amused in spite of everything. "I'm a mess, I should apologize."

"Your dad's in the hospital, you're supposed to be a mess. I'm just sorry stuff sucks right now. Don't apologize." He smiles a little. "I'm pretty sure I've still broken down on you way more than you've broken down on me."

"Yeah, but you only cried like _once_."

"Everyone cries when they're watching _Homeward Bound_ , Octavia set me up," he protests, and she laughs, just like he knew she would.

"I'm just saying, I'd be okay with it if you cried more. You don't need to have macho hangups around me." She pulls back to wipe her eyes, and Bellamy offers her a smile. "It's just been a bad week," she says. She does look a little better.

"The whole week?" She starts to reply and he holds up his hand. "Uh, actually, wait a sec, I'm gonna see if I have clothes here to sleep in. Just get in bed and stop worrying, okay? Or, uh, stop worrying about making me stay with you. Keep worrying about any other stuff you think is important."

"You're such a dork," she tells him, but she does get into bed without any more apparent issues, so he figures that's a victory.

It's been a while since Bellamy slept at the Griffin house for more than a couple nights over the holidays or for a weekend, but Jake and Abby have always been insistent that he has somewhere to stay if he needs it, so they changed an office into a new guest room and declared their previous guest room officially _his_. It was mostly a symbolic gesture, but it at least means he finds a pair of clean boxers and a t-shirt for tomorrow, which is about all he hoped for. And he's still got a toothbrush in the bathroom, so--it's probably a lot like it would be to go back to his actual parents' house from college, that strange mix of familiarity and strangeness.

"Is your mom going to kick me out?" he asks Clarke, when he gets back to her room. She's in bed, playing with her phone, and he's surprised to find _he's_ nervous about this. They're really getting too old for platonic bedsharing. They were honestly too old for it when they met, he just liked it too much to let that stop him at first.

"If they haven't kicked you out yet, you're probably safe," Clarke says. "Find anything?"

"Enough. Are you going to be scandalized if I just wear boxers to sleep?"

"Definitely. If there's one thing I hate, it's hot shirtless guys."

"Like there's only one thing you hate," he says, tugging off his shirt and sliding into bed next to her. She curls herself against him instantly, and it's nice, and as easy as it's ever been. Which means it feels way too natural and he wants to make out with her. "What happened this week?"

"You remember that guy Finn I dated for a couple weeks?"

He snorts. "The one who somehow managed to be dating you and Raven at the same time without knowing you guys were friends? That's one of my favorite stories about someone I want to punch."

She laughs, snuggling closer. "Yeah, well, he decided he should make a last-ditch effort to convince me to give him another chance. He tried for, like--god. He has apparently seen too many rom-coms, so he thought he should do a grand romantic gesture in a coffee-shop, which is actually _really fucking manipulative_? I got booed for turning him down, how fucked up is that?"

"Jesus, really?"

"It was so _sweet_ ," she says, and he can hear her eyeroll. "He's such a romantic! I had people coming up to me after and telling me I should give him another chance. I finally snapped and told this one lady that he cheated on me and she was just, like, but he seems like he's really sorry! And I always told him I wasn't looking for anything long-term, so--god. It just kind of ruined a couple days, and now I feel dumb for even caring because it was so, so much better than--"

"Hey," he says, squeezing her shoulder. "More than one thing can suck. The whole world is shit, so--"

Clarke laughs against his chest. "You always know just what to say."

"I've got a way with words," he agrees. "Anything else?"

"I actually got in a fight with mom the other day," she admits.

"With Abby? Really?"

"I want to get my own place when I move back, but she thinks I should live here for a year or two so I can save money. And I get what she means, but--I've been on my own for four years, I don't think I'd like living here again. Not that my parents are bad or anything, they're great, but if I didn't come home she'd want to know where I was, just, you know, because she'd be _curious_. And it just--I like having my own space. And now I'm worried she's going to use my dad's accident to convince me to stay, to help out, and, fuck, I'm definitely an asshole if that's what I'm worrying about right now, right?"

"You're an asshole for unrelated reasons," he tells her, and she laughs. "You should have called me."

"You had your thesis. And finals. I figured I'd call you once our schedules calmed down." He feels the curve of her mouth against his neck, and tries not to shiver. "This is better. Except for, you know."

"The obvious."

"Yeah."

"If you don't want to live here, don't. I lasted like two years before having parental figures freaked me out, and I only made it that long because O was here and I didn't want to leave her. I don't think I could come back after college now, even if my mom was alive and O was living with her. And it's not like it's hard to visit them. As long as you don't move that far away."

"I was thinking your neighborhood."

"No wonder your mom doesn't want you to move, it's a shitty neighborhood."

"Yeah, but you're in it."

"I never said I agreed with her. I think it's a great idea." He leans over and hits the light. "Go to sleep, Clarke."

"We're gonna talk about this later," Clarke says, settling in against his chest.

He's not sure what he means, but he figures they talk about everything, sooner or later. "Sure," he says. "Night."

*

When he wakes up the next morning, his body is heavy and warm, and he cannot imagine ever getting out of bed. Clarke's still on top of him, which makes it even less appealing. He could probably just stay here forever, if he didn't need to eat and use the bathroom and eventually interact with Clarke's mother. He would really rather she didn't come in here when they're like this. She could still decide to ban him from her house.

He dozes on and off until Clarke wakes up, and he's gratified to find that when she does stir awake, she seems to consider for a moment before burrowing back in against him.

"Morning," he murmurs. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah." She stretches a little and settles back in a pretty inconveniently awesome way, which mostly means her boobs are pressed right up against his arm and she's got one leg thrown over his. It's objectively amazing, except for the whole physical reaction. He shifts a little, just to postpone the inevitable. "I wasn't keeping you from getting out of bed, was I?"

"Nope." She props her elbows on his chest, and he opens his eyes so he can look back at her. "What?"

She grins. "I like having you around."

"I've been around," he says. "You were the one who had to go to a brand-name college, instead of the generic state school."

She laughs. "You're right. But I did come back."

"You did," he agrees. She's still smiling at him, still on top of him in ways that he's starting to have a noticeable reaction to, and it somehow makes sense to reach up and cup her check. She leans into it, still smiling, watching him in a way that makes his heart speed up. It feels like shitty timing, but he wants--he wants to help, and he thinks maybe telling her actually would.

He's never been _sure_ Clarke feels the same way he does, but he's come very close to it.

He leans in and sees her eyes flutter shut in anticipation, which is enough encouragement.

So of course, that's when her mom knocks on the door.

"Clarke? Is Bellamy with you?"

Clarke startles off of him, and she's blushing as hard as he thinks he must be, even though Abby didn't open the door or catch them doing anything.

"Yeah, he's here."

"Good, I was worried he went home. The hospital just called, you father is awake. Do you two want to come see him?"

"Yeah, just give us a sec." She gives him half a smile. "At least it was good news," she remarks, and presses her mouth against his, quick and chaste. And then, before he can even react, she slides out of bed and pulls off her shirt and shorts, giving him an excellent and way too brief view of her breasts before she gets on her bra and a dress. "You need to get dressed too," she adds, smug, and he gets himself up on autopilot, yanking on last night's jeans and the clean t-shirt he found. Then he kisses her too, just as quickly, just because he can.

"Cool," says Clarke, slipping her hand into his. "You're not feeling vulnerable, right?"

"Not especially. You are."

"Unrelated. I was planning to do that as soon as I saw you anyway. Come on, I want to see if I can talk Mom into grabbing breakfast on the way, I'm hungry and hospital food sucks."

He laughs. "You know they have a food court, right?"

"And yet, somehow, it tastes worse because we're in a hospital."

They spend most of that day in the hospital too. Bellamy's summer job doesn't start up for another week, so it's not like he has stuff he should be doing and isn't. Clarke brings her laptop so she can work on her remaining final papers, and he and Octavia bring a deck of cards and sit on the floor playing endless hands of rummy until Abby and Clarke take pity on them and join so they can switch to hearts. Jake is in and out of surgery, some complications with the fracture in his shoulder, but they're in his room when they can be, Clarke holding on tight to his hand and making him a little paranoid that someone is going to bring up how obvious they are. But it's nothing she wouldn't have done yesterday, which is actually kind of awesome, when he thinks about it.

She drags him into a private bathroom to hardcore make out for about five minutes when they're heading down to pick up food, and it's up there on the list of best things that have ever happened to him.

"Nice to see you too," he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers.

"Obviously this sucks and I'm worried," she says. "But I was pretty pissed to miss out on that this morning."

"Yeah, me too."

She nods, like maybe she somehow wasn't sure of this. Like she's the only person in the entire universe who didn't notice he was in love with her.

"I'm not having sex with you in a hospital yet," she remarks, once their clothes are straightened and they look fairly innocuous. "I draw the line at making out."

He holds the bathroom door open for her. "That's a pretty weird _yet_ ," he remarks. "I mean, we haven't had sex at all, so you're probably never going to want it more than you do right now. What future circumstance are you picturing where you have to fuck me in a hospital, if not today?"

She looks at him for a second and then breaks down laughing, and he does too. A nurse glares at them as she passes, like she wants to remind them people are dying here, but he's pretty sure both of them remember. This is how he and Clarke deal with stress.

"You really think this is the most I'll ever want to fuck you?" she asks, when they're alone again. "Does that happen a lot, like--you fuck a girl once and then she's like, never doing that again."

"We're usually on the same page with never doing it again," he points out. "I try to set pretty realistic expectations. Just one night, I'm in love with someone else."

He manages to say it casually, but his heart is still racing. She _has_ to know. It would be impossible for him to do this and not be serious about it.

"Hey, I was realistic with Finn too, I told him I wasn't looking for anything past graduation. And I just wanted to have fun. He still tried to win me back with a public coffee-shop declaration."

"One-night stands," he advises, squeezing her fingers. "Way easier."

"I'm hoping it's going to stop being an issue," she says, light.

"Yeah. That too."

After they've eaten, he borrows the car to go back to his apartment. He's pretty sure he's crashing with Clarke until her dad's better, or until she decides she'd rather crash at his apartment than at her house, so he needs to pick up clothes and his razor and tell Miller he's not dead.

Octavia tags along, because she likes hospitals about as much as he does. At least now he has a counter-memory of making out with Clarke, which is far and away the best thing that has ever happened to him in a hospital. It's up there on best things that have ever happened to him, but he's pretty sure that's mostly because he hasn't gotten Clarke naked yet.

"I talked to Clarke," he tells Octavia, because it's mostly true. They haven't hashed out everything, but he's not actually worried. He and Clarke have always been on the same page.

"Either it went well or you guys are weirdly touchy-feely for people who aren't fucking."

"We're not technically fucking yet. But, yeah. It went well."

"I thought you weren't talking to her until Jake was out of the hospital."

"I wasn't going to. I didn't exactly plan it."

Octavia snorts. "Wait, are you telling me sleeping with the girl you're in love with somehow resulted in you guys hooking up? Wow, no one saw that coming."

"God, you're a fucking brat. See if I ever tell you about my girlfriend again."

"Like you're going to be able to shut up about your girlfriend. You could barely shut up about her before you were dating her, now you're going to be gross and happy all the time."

"I know how much you hate my happiness."

She hugs him when they get out of the car, just around his arm, this strange burst of affection that twists him up. "I _am_ happy for you, Bell."

"Thanks," he says. "I am too."

*

Abby does take him aside when Clarke and Octavia are in with Jake, and it's honestly a huge relief. Bellamy has been expecting a talking-to about his clearly inappropriate relationship with her daughter for five years, and it'll be nice to get it over with.

But instead, Abby says, "Thank you for being here for everyone. For Clarke. I know you've never--well, I always understood why you weren't as close to Jake and me. But I know how much it's helped Clarke, having you to talk to these last few years. Especially now."

He swallows. "Yeah, of course. I mean--it's the same for me. I don't know what I'd do without her. What I did." It's actually difficult, remembering his life before Clarke. He knows he had one, knows it was mostly Octavia, but--it kind of sucked, aside from Octavia, and it's better like this. He has friends as well as a family, and he has this girl who understands him and loves him.

It's kind of a lot to take in, still.

He clears his throat. "I didn't mean to--I do appreciate everything you and your husband have done for me. And for Octavia. I just--"

"You were pretty well raised by the time we met you," Abby says, sounding warm. "I don't mind. It's been nice to have someone around to take care of the rest of us."

"Yeah, that's how I like to deal with problems." He clenches his hands into fists on his jeans. "You know I'm in love with her, right? Clarke."

"You didn't think you were being subtle, did you?"

Bellamy snorts. "Yeah, okay."

She pats his leg. "But thank you for telling me. Did you tell her?"

"Not in those exact words. But yeah, I think we're good." He ducks his head. "Isn't this where you're supposed to tell me to treat her right or whatever?"

"You've been treating her right for five years, Bellamy. I don't see why you'd stop now."

Clarke takes shotgun when they drive back to the house, and the last bit of tension uncoils from his stomach when he meets Abby's eye in the rear view mirror and she smiles.

*

It is, somehow, _still_ awkward to go into Clarke's room. He is, at some point in his life, going to get used to sleeping with Clarke Griffin. And it's going to be awesome.

But Clarke seems a little awkward too, and the two of them just kind of stare at each other for a second before Clarke starts laughing, and he does too, and he settles his hands on her hips, tugging her in to kiss her.

"Hi," he says, and she winds her arms around his neck.

"Hi."

"Your mom gave us her blessing. And I told her and my sister I'm in love with you before I even told you that, so--I'm really fucking in love with you. In case you didn't notice."

"You were _really_ insistent I wasn't your sister," she teases. 

"You're not."

She leans up for another kiss, longer and deeper, and Bellamy walks them backward toward the bed without breaking contact. Her hands slide under his t-shirt, trying to take it off, and he bats them away, laughing.

"You know you haven't even said you love me back, right?" he teases. "I'm not gonna just let you use me for sex." He pauses. "Actually, I might, but--"

Clarke pushes him onto the bed and climbs into his lap. "Of course I love you. I thought it was _fucking obvious_."

"You're so bad at this," he says, pulling her shirt off.

"You are too. You told _my mom_."

He kisses her neck, and then pauses. "We don't have to--you've got a lot going on, so--whatever you want, okay? Just tell me."

Clarke leans in and rests her forehead against his neck, with this smile like he's never seen before, this fucking perfect smile. "I really love you," she says, soft.

"Good."

"And I really, really want to fuck you," she adds, pushing him back onto the bed and tugging his shirt off. "Dad's doing really well. He's going to be fine. I'm not--" 

He pulls her down for another kiss. "You don't have to talk me into it, Clarke. If you're sure, there is seriously no universe where I don't want you."

"Good," she says, sliding her hands up his chest. "Just be quiet, okay? I don't want my mom to know exactly how laid I'm getting."

He groans and scrubs his hand over his face. "Please never mention your mom when we're having sex ever again."

"No promises."

He grins and rolls them over, pressing her onto the bed. She's still grinning too, so fucking _bright_ , and he doesn't know if he'll ever get used to this. He kind of hopes he won't. He hopes it's this awesome forever.

"So, uh--what are you into?" he asks, kissing down her throat. 

"I'm pretty into the way you haven't shaved in a couple days," she says, squirming. "Bell, it's _you_. I'm into you."

"I'm pretty sure I could think of something to do you wouldn't be into," he teases.

She rolls her eyes. "So you've got me half-naked in bed and your plan is to try to think of something I'm _not_ going to enjoy? I feel like you didn't think this one through."

"You're not really half naked."

She leans up to unhook her bra and slip it off, and his jaw drops a little. Clarke has the best breasts he has ever seen, and he knew that even before he'd actually seen them. Seeing them is still a revelation.

"Fuck," he says, sliding his mouth down and pressing kisses against her skin. "Jesus, you're hot. I'm just gonna play with your boobs forever, okay?"

Her hand finds his hair, tugging gently, and she slides her leg over his. "Not _forever_. I'm going to want you to fuck me at some point."

"I can fuck you and play with your boobs at the same time," he says, grinning up at her. "Multitasking. I'm very talented."

"Don't oversell yourself. You're gonna have all this big talk and--" He scrapes his teeth against her nipple and she lets out a soft gasp; he smirks. "That was a coincidence," she says, and pulls him up to kiss him. "Sorry, that's good, just--"

"Yeah," he agrees. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of just kissing her. He does get his hand up to her breast, though, because--jesus, her fucking breasts.

"You're such a boy," she teases.

"What, the girls you slept with didn't do this?" he asks.

"Okay, they did, but--not _quite_ this much."

"Then they were really missing out."

"They had their own, it was less exciting." 

He has to actually pull back to give her a properly unimpressed look at that. "Clarke, I've slept with a lot of girls, and trust me, you have the best breasts in the entire universe."

"First, don't brag about how many girls you've slept with. Be like me, I'm classy. I let people figure out how many girls I've slept with from context clues. Second, you're biased. Third, alien breasts could be really cool."

"Why would aliens even _have_ breasts, they probably evolved totally differently from us, we wouldn't even be sexually compatible, and--" Clarke is grinning at him, and he slumps against her, laughing. "Fuck. Are we really bad at having sex?"

He feels the press of her lips against his temple. "I think it's kind of awesome, actually. Hanging out naked with my best friend."

"You're definitely not naked. I would have noticed."

There's a beat and then she pushes off her shorts and Bellamy kicks off his jeans and boxers and they're making out again, hot and open-mouthed, pressed as close together as they can be.

"You know, this morning, I was hoping you _wouldn't_ notice my dick," he says, as Clarke's hand slides between them and wraps around him.

"Trust me, I always notice your dick."

It's actually been a while since Bellamy got laid--his desire to sleep with other people went down the closer he got to graduation and Clarke, and by the end of the semester he'd basically accepted he was waiting for her. Still, he's pretty sure even if he'd had sex last night, Clarke's fingers on his dick would still feel like being touched for the first time. It's actually embarrassing how good it feels.

"Fuck, it's going to suck if you totally destroy my stamina," he says, and she laughs. 

"See, I don't brag about how awesome I am in bed, so it's a surprise."

"I think I'm biased about this too." He catches her wrist and stops her hand. "Seriously, though, I grabbed condoms while I was home, do you want--"

"Aww, you thought you were gonna get laid," she teases.

"I am gonna get laid." He scrapes his teeth against her neck. "I'm just trying to figure out how I'm gonna get laid, and you're being really unhelpful. But if you want to keep jerking me off, I guess that counts as making up your mind."

"Yeah, okay. Where are the condoms?"

He rolls off her and roots through his bag until he finds the box, grins when he sees Clarke openly watching him. "You know, I've said all sorts of nice stuff about how hot you are, you could return the favor."

"Your ego's big enough already," she says, grinning. 

"Thanks." He tangles his hand in her hair and kisses her again. "Do you want--" His fingers find her clit, rubbing gently, and Clarke gasps and pushes against him.

"Fuck. I'm--" She bites her lip. "That feels really good, but I just want you fucking in me."

"Awesome."

When he goes for the condom, she stops him, plucks it out of his fingers and pushes him onto his back on the bed. "I got this," she says, grinning, and slides the condom on with her mouth. "My one party trick," she says, when he swears under his breath.

"You and me go to very different parties."

She's tight and hot as she takes him in, sinking down into his lap. She's fucking _gorgeous_ too, biting her lip again, cheeks flushed, whole _body_ flushed. And she's his. He'd been pretty sure, but--god, it's good. Really having her.

They both take a second to adjust, and she's the first to move, setting a slow, perfect rhythm, and it takes him a second to catch up, just because it feels so fucking amazing.

"Come on, Blake," she teases, leaning down to kiss his jaw. "I'm doing all the work here."

"I'm having a fucking moment, jesus," he laughs, and then he's moving too, matching her movements, fumbling to grope her again, because he still really loves her breasts.

When he breath starts getting fast, when she's burying little moans against his neck, when her pace starts to speed up, he gets his hand between them again and strokes her clit until she falls apart around him, her mouth hot on his shoulder, and then he turns them over so he can push into her, hard and deep, managing to get her off once more, barely, before he loses it and comes himself. 

There's a long moment of harsh breathing, Bellamy's mouth somewhere below Clarke's ear, her hands gripping his back hard, before he's got enough control of his brain and body to pull out and get the condom off and tied.

"Do I have to move to throw this away?" he asks, against her neck.

"It's like I didn't plan my room around hookups when I was a teenager," she says, but she takes the condom and gets it disposed of without actually leaving the bed, so he thinks she just likes making fun of him. Which really isn't news.

He tugs her back against his chest and kisses her hair. "So, on a scale from one to ten, how much do you want to fuck me in a hospital right now?"

She laughs and curls against his chest. It's almost normal, just like all the other times they've slept together, except that they're both naked and his body is heavy with the satisfaction of a good orgasm, and he knows for sure she's in love with him, instead of just hoping very hard. "Like two, I'm tired. Ask me again in the morning."

"Hey," he says, nudging his nose against her temple.

"What?" she asks. She already sounds like she's falling asleep.

"I still love you."

"Good," she says, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I thought that might have changed your mind."

*

Jake gets out of the hospital after five days, mostly because he's bored and tired of making everyone come visit him, when he could just lie in his own bed and see them and save money on gas. He's clearly injured, but mending, and he's going to get out of it without too much lasting damage. Bellamy actually chokes up at the news, surprising himself. But--he does love Jake and Abby. It's easier to think about it when he's not worried about Clarke deciding she thinks of him like a brother.

"Heard you were looking out for everyone while I was gone," Jake tells him. They're the first two awake on Saturday, and Bellamy has somehow gotten roped into making breakfast, because Jake can't, with his injuries. Mostly, it's Jake telling him what to do and then changing his mind and making Bellamy start all over. It's kind of fun, honestly.

"I look out for everyone while you're here, too," he points out.

Jake laughs. "Fair enough. I also heard you're in love with my daughter. The one who isn't related to you."

He's not sure Jake's ever referred to Octavia as his daughter before; he's certainly never done it to Bellamy. There's a part of him that wants to bristle, to protest, but--it's so much smaller than the part that feels happy. "I heard you already knew."

"True, I did. She seems happy."

"I'm doing my best."

Jake squeezes his shoulder with his good hand. They don't tend to be affectionate--Clarke's the only one of the Griffins he's ever been affectionate with, honestly--but the gesture still makes a lump grow in Bellamy's throat. "You do a good job, Bellamy. You're a good kid."

"I'm twenty-two," he says, mostly to avoid any kind of genuine emotional response.

Jake snorts. "And I'm forty-eight. You're a kid. And a good one. Do you know where we keep the waffle iron?"

He calls Miller on Sunday. He's sitting on the couch with Clarke's head in his lap as she plays around on her phone, idly rubbing his fingers against her scalp. It's the kind of thing they did before, when they were both in town, and it's still kind of unreal to him, how much better it is now that they're _together_ , even though it's the exact same thing.

"Jake's out of the hospital, so you're going to have a roommate again." He glances at Clarke. "I assume my girlfriend is coming too, so two roommates. Sorry."

"I sort of just assumed your girlfriend was going to move in with us," Miller says. "She's rich, right? She could just take over our rent, and then I won't be pissed that I have to hear you guys having sex all the time."

"I didn't even tell you who my girlfriend is," he protests, mostly because he's kind of tired of no one even pretending to act surprised he and Clarke got together. Or at least being happy for him, instead of sort of condescending about how they saw it coming. He saw it coming too, but it's still fucking awesome. "She could be poor."

"Uh huh. Give her the phone, I like her better than you."

"Miller wants you to promise you'll pay all our rent and won't clog the shower with your hair," he tells her, and they trade phones. He loses the game of Bejeweled she was playing in roughly fifteen seconds, and Clarke calls Miller a dickhead twelve times in five minutes. Clarke and Miller are very firmly the kind of friends who talk endless shit about each other, but will fight anyone who comes close to doing the same. 

"He thinks I'm moving in," Clarke says, when she hangs up. "I told him I'm looking for other places and he's convinced it's a waste of time and money. And also stupid."

"You have plenty of time and money," he points out. "But he's probably not wrong."

Clarke squints at him. "You know, if you want me to move in, you're going to have to actually _ask_. You can't let Miller do it for you."

"I would have asked as soon as you said you were moving back, but we don't have a third bedroom, and I thought it'd be weird to tell you to share with me if we weren't dating," he says, keeping his voice deliberately casual. But when she doesn't reply right away, he kind of loses it anyway. "I haven't lived with you for the last four years, and it _sucked_. It was probably good, because I needed to be--I dunno. Without Octavia and without you and just myself for a while. But I don't anymore, and I love you. If you don't want to, that's cool, get your own place, but you know I'm going to be sleeping with you every night either way, right?"

She smiles, soft and strangely private. "I had a feeling."

"I get that it might be too soon, but--fuck too soon."

She pushes herself up off the couch, turns so she can climb into his lap and kiss him. Ordinarily he'd protest--he feels weird making out with her where her parents or Octavia might see--but it's all reassurance, and he's surprised to find he needs it. "I meant it, you just had to ask," she says, resting her forehead against his.

"You know if this goes wrong, both of our lives are going to totally fall apart," he says, but he can't keep a smile off his face.

"I know." She noses his neck and then slides off his lap. "But I think we can handle it."

*

Bellamy's graduation is a week before Clarke's, which means they don't have to decide whose to go to. Bellamy's non-Miller friends are just as unsurprised to discover he's dating the girl he talks about literally all the time, but he at least has some casual acquaintances who congratulate him on the new girlfriend. It helps a little.

But what really helps is going to Clarke's graduation the next week, and meeting all her friends. Not because they're surprised--they're just as, _oh, this is Bellamy, I thought you guys were already dating, you never shut up about him_ as his friends were--but because he never actually knew, not concretely, that she talks about him just as much as he talks about her. And that's actually better than his friends acting like they didn't see this coming. As always, they're on the same page.

Raven isn't actually at college with Clarke, but they're in the same city, so she sits with him during graduation, cheers just as loudly as he does when Clarke gets her diploma.

"So, seriously, you guys have only been together for a month?" she asks, nudging her shoulder against his.

"Like three weeks, yeah." She gives him an unimpressed look, and he raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Nothing, just--took you two long enough. We all saw this coming in high school. You could have done this back then, saved everyone some stupidity."

Clarke's not on the stage anymore, but he finds her easily anyway. He's always been able to find Clarke. "Nah," he says. "It took us exactly the right amount of time."


End file.
